What's In A Name?
by R.Eileen
Summary: ...that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet..."/Rukia comes face to face with the darkness in Ichigo...
1. What's In A Name? Author's Notes

_Let me set the scene real quick:_

_1) they have already rescued Orihime from Hueco Mundo_

_2) Ichigo never went to the Vizards_

_3) Ichigo and Rukia are sleeping together at this point_

_...with that said, on with the show... _


	2. What's In A Name?

* * *

_"What's in a name?"_

_ -**William Shakespeare**, Romeo and Juliet _

* * *

When Rukia cracked open the door to Ichigo's room, she steeled herself, unsure of what she would encounter.

She glanced across the expanse of the room and found Ichigo, her lover, his back to her, facing the window, his usually intimidating stature illuminated by the setting sun. His arms were linked behind his back, spine straight, still in his _hakama_. If he knew she was there, he didn't give any physical indication.

At least he was up, she tried to assure herself. The last time she had seen his body was when Yoruichi and Ikkaku dragged it away from the battle ground, bloody, beaten, and unconscious, to be healed. No one could tell her what had happened, who he had been fighting against. The only way he had been found was by the location of the black tear that pierced the sky when he threw a desperate _getsuga tensho_ at his opponent.

Knowing this, while Rukia was relieved to see his body up and moving around, she still braced herself. There was a darkness in Ichigo, she knew, something he hid in the very depths of his soul and refused to acknowledge. She hadn't yet pressed him on the matter because she knew he would just scowl and tell her it was none of her business, that he had it under control.

The silence was almost deafening, the aftermath of the last battle still ringing in her ears. It was a rare moment of quiet in the middle of the war against Aizen when normally the skies of Karakura Town were alight with their forces. It seemed that tonight both sides had taken some time to recoup their losses.

And Ichigo... 

After this last battle, though, Rukia had know idea what to expect.

Her concern for her lover dominated her thoughts during the recuperative meeting at the _Urahara Shoten_. Renji had smacked her a few times, growling for her to wake up from la-la land. "Yer boytoy is fine," he said. "Quite sniveling."

_Sure_, she thought. _'Fine' physically, but..._

Nothing looked different about him now. Not the stubborn set of his jaw, the tousled orange hair, the set of his wide shoulders. But something...imperceptible, that tickled the back of her neck...

"Rukia."

Her name slid across his tongue, oily and iridescent, and she knew she had been right .

"Where is Ichigo?" she asked softly.

'Ichigo' turned. She expected to be shocked, to see something horribly different about his features; maybe a skeletal mask to compliment that Hollow voice, but no, everything about him was the same. All except for the eyes, which had gone yellow with a thick ring black. If that was all that was going to manifest when the internal Hollow appeared...

...well, frankly, she was a little disappointed.

'Ichigo' grinned, all teeth and the wide corners of his mouth. "Could be I gobbled him all up. Could be the soul of your lover is dead and dust beneath my cloven hooves." Relishing in the details, he ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of his teeth.

Rukia stared, unflinching and unwilling to give even an inch. Let this thing think it could intimidate her. She wasn't some random sniveling little brat; she was a _Kuchiki_, a _shinigami_. Her soul was made of sterner stuff.

It saw her lack of reaction and huffed in mild annoyance. "_Matta_...nothing scares kids these days. No respect unless you come bounding out of the sky, oozing death."

Rukia's eye twitched. "Where is Ichigo?"

"Bet you were expected me to be a drooling monster at this point, too," the Hollow went on. "Perhaps a pointed tail, taloned feet and hands, rows of teeth, and my breath dripping with the scent of devoured souls. Probably would have gotten ahold of a few juicy pieces by now, don't you think? Hard to deny the man in black. Maybe I could have skewered them on _Zangetsu_, made myself little _h'ourderves_ and picked my teeth with their thin, little bones--"

"_Where is Ichigo_."

The Hollow stopped, the large smile draining from his face. Those eyes, so familiar while so alien, watched her with an uncanny deliberateness that left an uneasiness in the pit of her stomach.

"So...you too?"

Having Kon in Ichigo's body wasn't like this. Kon was Kon, no matter the host. He retained his usual mannerisms; oogling, drooling obscenely, even his smile was distinctly Kon, and could never be mistaken for anyone else's.

But _this..._

...this thing, whatever it was...

_...this **Hollow**..._

...it _watched _her like Ichigo, It _sounded _like him, used his vocabulary and words and smiled just the way Ichigo smiled. It was like looking at a twin, without realizing he'd ever had one. Like he'd been possessed, or woken up one morning just a totally different persona. It was difficult to discern exactly how It worked. A lesser person wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.

It was talking again, and she struggled to keep up. "You're just like him, y'know? Maybe that's why . A Hollow is a Hollow is a Hollow, no room for debate. Suppose I can almost understand. One did eat his mother--_our _mother."

Rukia sucked in a breath. "She wasn't your mother."

"That's where you're wrong, Rukia," It chided at her. "What was it you said specifically, so long ago? 'All Hollows are the souls of formerly normal humans...a Hollow is a 'fallen soul'; souls that weren't brought to Soul Society by shinigami; souls that escaped...souls that weren't protected from Hollows.' Then what was it you finished with, those elegant words...? Ah! 'The soul degenerates, loses it's heart, and _becomes_...'" It shifted those yellow eyes toward her, like he expected her to finish the sentence.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

"So what am I, if not a part of Ichigo? The Hollow of Ichigo? Where were you when this specific little aspect of my being came to light, eh, Rukia? Why weren't you there to protect me?"

"Where is Ichigo?"

"Why so concerned? Oh, right; 'cause yer fuckin each other."

Unwittingly, her thoughts flew to that first moment of them together. For days, the intention had been clear, but subdued and tentative: a look here, a lingering caress, the brush of lips against her cheek before pulling away with a light blush flushing his stern cheeks. So Rukia had taken their destiny into her own hands, literally, and brought his sharp mouth down to hers. His passion, like his anger, was direct and focused, but his age still showed. He apologized when he was left shaking in her arms the first time, as always more concerned about her than himself. She had chuckled under her breath and kissed his brow, wiping wet bangs from his handsome face. That tenderness had changed everything.

Yellow eyes narrowed on her hands, twitching near the hilt of _Sode no Shirayuk_i. "Would you do it, Rukia? Kill your own lover?"

"If you were my lover, you mean."

"My, she cuts to the quick," It tittered, though she thought she caught a brief flash of..._something _across It's face. "Perhaps not me in particular, but with Ichigo, and through an odd transcendental coincidence, I am still there when you are with him. I am there when he holds you and presses his mouth to you. I'm there when you gasp his name in his ear, and I feel your sweat on his tongue. I'm not...doing it to you. I'm not the one fucking you to oblivion...but I know what your skin tastes like, how warm you are, and how it would feel to kiss you. Though you may not think it, I am as much your lover as he."

Internally, she was shaking to the core. Her hands were clenched tight by her side, fighting her instinct to launch herself at him and do...

...what?

"Ichigo is not like other people. But you already knew that, didn't you? So it's not like I can say that he has...a crush on you, because Ichigo doesn't get crushes. And _like _is much too light a word. You are a center to this sideways existence of ours. You gave him his power, you were at his side when he fought the hardest, and you were his princess in the tower when you were taken away to be executed. All he could think about was getting to you." The Hollow sneered. "All _I _could think about was getting to you."

Rukia frowned.

"You think I didn't feel it?" It went on, watching her carefully. "I am spawned from him. I am him. Everything he feels, everything that powers him, pours into me. Every time his power fails him, I surge forward to bring him back. I help to power him, and yet I am part of him. I am his power, _and yet I am my own_!"

It was amazing, what she was seeing. She could hardly explain it to herself. The Hollow was...aware, in every sense of the word. It had a sense of It's own, a sense of self, a full conscious and a will of its own.

_Not unlike the Arrancar...the Espada..._

"_I am his tool!_" the Hollow bellowed, rage contorting the lines of his face. "I am my own, and he uses me like I'm the fucking sword! His memories are mine, that mother was mine, _Zangetsu _is mine, and yet _I _am forced to kneel! Separate on my own, and he refuses to acknowledge that I am his, but he is me! I am separate from that which I am! I have my conscious when I should not! I shouldn't be here! _Like this! _Before you, like this, and not him!"

Her mouth was as dry as a desert. She swallowed what felt like a lump of lead.

"Where is Ichigo?" she whispered, afraid to hear the answer.

"...I don't know." Suddenly, the Hollow looked so small. And frightened. It stared down at his hands, like he'd murdered with them. "Suddenly he was gone. There, at the front, and then he was...away."

Her voice shook at the next question. "Is he dead?"

The Hollow shook his head. "No...not dead. Never dead. Just...hidden, hurt, somewhere deep inside, somewhere I can't even reach."

There was silence between them.

Chuckling in self-deprecation, self-humor, It sat on the blank bed, hanging It's shaggy head. "...this is the first time I've been alone. He's always been there, even when I leaked through, I've felt him, overpowered him. This time...something is wrong...I...I can't feel him inside. It's empty."

Remorse was something new to feel toward a Hollow. In her hundred years, she had never heard of anyone anywhere feeling such a thing for one. It left her stripped and unable to move. In a brief flash of clarity, she regretted everything she had ever learned at the Academy. Every soul she had exorcised, every Hollow she had cut and watched disappear with their screams echoing in the distance...it seemed less like exorcism and more like murder.

It couldn't be a trick, could it? This Hollow using her love for Ichigo to cloud her normally keen judgment...

Such a tactic would not be uncommon, as she recalled Grand Fisher and his human doll decoy, used like a lure.

So why was she moving towards him, hand outstretched?

Why was she not afraid?

She touched the top of his head, curling her fingers against his scalp. He turned and pressed his face into her palm, bringing her touch closer with a calloused hand. His breath ghosted along her wrist.

With this physical contact, as light as air, she could feel it: the emptiness, the shell that was his soul. Everything Ichigo, except this one piece of him, was gone. Then it suddenly struck her. Even if this poor creature wanted to, if it wanted to go after them, kill them, it couldn't. Wherever Ichigo was, wherever he had gone to the deep recesses of his being, he had taken his power with him, and left this lingering piece of his soul behind. Even in this far off state, he refused to acknowledge this thing here...belonged to him.

"Urahara," she choked out. "Urahara could fix this..."

It snorted horribly. "Ichigo would never accept me as his own. He is King, and I am his horse...nothing more to him..."

"We could try..."

"I thought you were smarter than that."

She frowned, insulted.

"Ichigo will never acknowledge the part of him related to the creature that killed his mother. Once he returns, and you know he will, I'm nothing but an after thought...to him..." It lifted those yellow eyes, met hers. "...to you."

There was an odd twisting sensation in her gut.

She was moved...

...for a _Hollow_.

It was too big to wrap her mind around.

"I could always tell when you were near," It was continuing. "While I'm there, in that sideways upside down world of ours...I may not always be able to see, but you have an affect, either way. I'll be lying on my side, watching the wayward sky, thinking about death and doom and destruction, and my breath...I'll see it in front of my face. I didn't understand at first, not until you returned for the Bound."

Rukia swallowed. "I..."

"We didn't like you being gone." It narrowed its eyes on her. "We don't like that you might go back once this war is done."

She fought the trembling along the length of her spine.

"But it's not me you're concerned with," It said with a mocking grin. "Just thinking about your orange haired angel...Can't say I blame you. Without him...there's no power."

"Ichigo--"

"You call for him, and I want to respond. I hope it's a slip of the tongue because I'm locked in his shell, that you're addressing in general. But it's not me you want."

She cocked her head to one side. "Do you have a name?"

It stopped, looked away, staring in a corner. "Never had one. Never given one. Why would he offer? To give me a name would mean to..."

"...give you an identity."

He met her eyes again. "...yes."

Madness to be talking like this without swords drawn and blood. But she was calm, collected, and not afraid. This thing wouldn't hurt her. It couldn't. More importantly, it didn't want to.

"I understand I won't be here for very long. I know you'll be doing all you can to bring back your man. I don't blame you. It only makes sense you would want him back. I'll understand, but leave me this brief freedom for a time. I won't fight it when the King returns to his throne. I need him as much as you and as he needs me."

"A few days of freedom...and you promise no attacking anyone?"

"Unless that tattooed one sniffing at your sandals has anything to say..."

She could have laughed. "All right...so now--if you're going to be here for awhile, we need to call you something."

It shook it's head and stood. "It's not that simple. Do children name themselves?" It turned to her, narrowed its eyes in fierce conviction. "And I won't submit to _his _name."

Ichigo...

"Then what...?"

"You think of something," It growled, turning away again. "I can't name myself. There's no power in it. Even Aizen asks the former name of his soldiers. It gives him power over them; it's part of his control."

Rukia stared, unsure. "If I name you, you give me control."

It glanced over it's shoulder and smiled that so familiar smile at her. "Better you than other's we could name." It chuckled, silently, and turned back to the window. "Consider it an incentive to keep me well behaved. Think of something, Rukia, before someone else does it for you."

Think of something...

A name, any name...

She touched her mouth, considering.

A name...

She thought of Kaien, naming him after her beloved _dono_, but somehow that seemed...incestuous.

What about after one of her old friend from the _Rukongai _days...? But that was somehow an insult to not only their memory, but It's. This thing was far more than a bumbling doofus she used to steal food and candy with...

A name...

After one of the captains? She might get sent back to the executioners block...

She remembered no other male members of her family, either living or dead...

A name...

Sudden clarity flashed through her. And she felt stupid, because she should have thought of it before. She straightened back up and faced him again.

"Ashido."

At first she thought he didn't hear her. There was no motion from it, not even a breath. Then It snorted, shook its head, turned back to her with an incredulous expression. "That's the best you can do? That bleeding heart from the Gillian Forest who wore masks like trophies?"

Frustration growled through her. "Hey, you asked--!"

It threw back it's head and laughed. "I know, I know...I asked, and you delivered." It glanced back out the window. She studied his profile.

"Ashido..." It whispered, testing the name. "_Ashido..._"

"Do you like it?"

"_Ashido_..." It was pronouncing the name, getting used to each syllable, ignoring her.

Rukia frowned. Before she realized what she was doing, she stepped forward. "Ashido..."

It--_Ashido_--whirled on her, grabbing her wrist. It was watching her exclusively now, those yellow eyes focused and secure, drinking in the sight of her.

Her heart was pounding in her throat. Suddenly she was sweating, every inch of her skin aware.

_Ichigo looked at her like that when..._

He--_It_--growled. "Again."

"W-What?"

"The name, again."

"A-Ashido--"

Through his grip on her wrist, she felt it: the trembling. He was shaking, internally...

He leaned forward, pressed his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling, deeply, just the way Ichigo would. His arms went around her, pulling her close, and her heart and insides were fluttering. Just like when Ichigo would take her against himself. He moved against her, pushing her back, and she responded and followed, just like she would with...

"You're like winter," he whispered. "Cold."

Normally, female pride would take it as an insult. But on his lips--_Ichigo's lips_--it was the perfect thing to hear.

He--Ashido-- pressed his lips along her collar, spreading wide the front of her uniform. He glided his fingers against her sternum, caressing, gentle but demanding.

Her back ran into something solid--Ichigo's desk. He slid his hands down her body, grabbing her thighs, lifting, sitting her on the edge so that he pressed against her fully, sharply. He was holding her tight, his mouth along her jaw, his hands slipping under her top, along her bare skin, warm and rough.

_Ichigo's hands--_

Fingertips brushed against the underside of her breast and her nipples responded so quickly, she gasped. Her response to him was instantaneous, strong, like nothing was different.

She tried to push against his shoulders. His hair was tickling her nose.

He rotated his hips against the juncture of her thighs, hard and fast. Her mouth went dry. His hand closed over one breast, squeezing, hard, but not enough to hurt. The thumb and forefinger dug at the nipple and she moaned.

_This was wrong_, she tried to tell herself in the part of her mind that wasn't yet clouded by desire. _Him_--he still smelled like Ichigo, breathed like Ichigo--it had his hands, his breath--it used Ichigo's teeth, used his weight to bring her down against the top of his desk, knocking some items aside--

--she was responding like she would to Ichigo; flushing, thighs gripping at his hips--

--this is not Ichigo...

"Ashido--"

He growled, took the nipple not occupied by his fingers into his mouth, working those familiar lips over her flesh. His teeth were hard, sharp--_Ichigo's teeth_--

It felt like him, smelled like him, it was his hands and skin, but this passion was so much different. Ichigo's passion was careful, like he was afraid he would consume her. Ichigo loved her to the fullest satisfaction...

Ashido took her like he meant to have every inch of her skin. Like he would have her howling at the moon...

How could it be so familiar to her, but the passion so different?

_Ichigo..._

_..."I am spawned from him...everything he feels...I am his power, __and yet I am my own!"..._

Being here, pinned under him, with his mouth along her belly and biting her lip to keep from moaning aloud, should have had her sick to her stomach. She should have felt like a traitor, should have been hating herself, pulling away, running as fast as she could to keep this from happening...

...his fingers were quick, pulling at the sash at her waist, baring her to him...

_..."You're just like him, y'know?"..._

She clutched at the edges of the desk, digging her nails into the thick wood, anchoring herself to reality. He lifted one of her legs as her _hakama _was pulled apart, slid her calf over his shoulder.

_..."You think I didn't feel it?"..._

His fingers, like spiders, petted through the hair of her mound, traced the lips of her labia, parted them. A sadistic smile spread wide when he found her already moist. He slid his middle finger into her, and she lost the breath from her lungs. He stroked another finger alongside that one, thumb playing with the hood of her clit with firm flicks that left her seeing black spots. He twisted those fingers inside her, curled and pressed at the warm walls of her womb. Her eyes flew wide open, spine bowing off the table. With yellow eyes boring into hers, watching her watching him, he lifted fingers that glistened to his lips, snaked out his tongue to sip and lick as if he had found the most delicious substance on earth. Her heart was pounding. Brief instinct flared, told her to run, yet she was paralyzed, pinned like a butterfly to a wall from the ferocity of his stare as he enjoyed _her_.

"_Ashido..._" she gasped breathlessly.

"Yes," he purred, lowering his head between her legs. "Just like that..."

His mouth was hot as lava, his tongue like silk. He rashed it over her, licking wildly, nibbling. She almost wailed, pressed her palm to her lips, biting, hard. He dug his face in harder, fingers pulling her wide, bruising her. Her heels dug into his shoulder blades. She arched off the desk, trembling.

_..."your sweat on his tongue"..._

Her other hand she curled into his hair, grabbed, tugged, clutching at him mercilessly, and it only surged him further. Ashido's passions were wild and hungry and it gnawed at her. She felt boiled and fried. She was gripping the desk so hard, she might break it. His fingers at her hips and legs hurt, and she didn't care. Enemies had done worse. His heat was eating her alive.

"I'll never have a chance...not unless its through him..."

He was talking...she had to pay attention...

"...give me this once..once to have you as mine..."

_..."You think I didn't feel it?"..._

"Something to occupy my mind while I wait in that sideways world..."

_..."how it would feel to kiss you...I am as much your lover as he"..._

Her eyes, fallen shut at his ministrations, snapped wide open. "Oh..."

_..." I am his, but he is me"..._

It all fell in together...

_..."I am spawned from him...I am him...Everything he feels, everything that powers him...Every time his power fails him...I help to power him, and yet I am part of him...I am his power...I am as much your lover as he"..._

_..."What was it you said specifically, so long ago?"..._

Her words haunted her (_"the souls of formerly normal humans"_) but they were right. This--_Ashido_--was the part of Ichigo he continued to deny, even to himself. Even if it was dark, even if it's intentions and motives were questionable and frightening, Ashido had come from Ichigo's soul...

_..." I am his, but he is me"..._

...and she loved Ichigo.

_..."like is too light a word"..._

She loved Ichigo and Ichigo would never hurt her and loving someone meant accepting them and who they were and she would accept everything about him ...

_...even this._

That's what this thing--Ashido--was asking for: acceptance. If she could accept him, open her arms to him, take him to her...maybe Ichigo could.

She reached up, slipped her little, white fingers beneath the hem of his top, sliding her fingertips across his hard body. The curve, the shape of him, was so familiar. She remembered marveling at the maturity, the form of him, marked and gnarled despite his youth, scars shaping up his body: where her brother had stabbed him, a mark from Renji, even the gash from Zaraki.

His motions were sharp, quick. While she'd been preoccupied with her own thoughts, he'd marked her body, from his mouth, his fingers. Her legs were bare, clothes rumpled beneath her. He grabbed at her hair, pulled her head back, baring her throat. He bit at her there; the other free hand yanked at his _hakama_. A quick motion, adjusting her, a thrust, and he had penetrated her. Had she been a lesser being, his roughness would have frightened her.

Ichigo had been unsure, firm but careful. Ashido was more than sure, took his pleasure as well as he gave it. The thrusts of his hips were deliberate, heady, pounded into her, into her blood. One leg was still perched at his shoulder. He gripped at the desk, keeping himself stable, holding her down. She clutched at his forearm, the desktop, digging nails into flesh and wood. Each thrust of him was full, overwhelming.

She glanced up through heavily drooping lids. His face showed no emotion, but sweat beaded along his cheeks and forehead, trailed down his neck. She wanted to lick it up. His eyes were focused, watching her, drinking in every reaction, every gasp from her flushed lips.

"_A-Ashi-do..._"

Those yellow eyes sharpened; his nostrils flared. He bared his teeth and thrust faster, harder.

"_Ashido...!_"

She grabbed at his shoulders, pulled him down to her, slanted her mouth against his in delicious desperateness. He complied only happily, thrusting his tongue deep, as if to draw her into him, into the unknown world where he often waited, alone.

The taste was still Ichigo, the brush of his tongue unchanging, but the pressure and ferocity of the kiss...all Ashido.

Kissing her, having her, he slipped one hand between them, wet and sticky with their sweat, he found her opening, circled her clit, used the wetness there to stroke and press.

"_God...! Ashido!_"

So close...it was so close...

His finger worked faster, harder, in perfect time with his deepening thrusts. His breath was hot on her face, murmuring her name.

"_Rukia..._"

Orgasm swept her a moment later. She bit her lip, but the moan tore through her. Her body tightened around him, and the creature in her arms growled terribly, pounding into her once, twice more, and a last time before her crushed down on top of her.

_Oh..._

They held each other there for a time. Who knew how many moments ticked by. It seemed Ashido, as well, was content to lie there in silence, bathing in the aftermaths of something he could take with him to the recesses of Ichigo's soul when he returned. She brushed her fingers through the orange hair that had given the boy so much trouble throughout his life, kissing his forehead like she had after the first time...

_This _was _a first time..._

"Remember this," he whispered against her neck, his breath tickling the hairs there.

Rukia nodded, wetting her lips. "Yes..."

A few minutes later, she righted her clothing, helped him smooth out his. Later, she would take him to Urahara's and make the former captain turned madman devote everything to fixing this. Ashido had been right: they _would _bring Ichigo back; otherwise, Soul Society would see a threat. Ichigo was great fighter; he was needed for the war. If they knew a _shinigami _substitute had donned an inner-Hollow, who knew what the outcry would be. There would be no room for questions in their world; a Hollow was a Hollow and there wouldn't be anything she could do to protect him.

Ashido would disappear; Ichigo would return.

She knew about the darkness now. Chances are when Ichigo came back, when she told him about Ashido, there would be no room for him to deny it, to deny part of the source of his power, to deny the Hollow spawned from a piece of his soul. If he faced it, if he acknowledged it...

If she could do that, Ashido...

It dawned on her then: acceptance wasn't all.

It was Ashido's last wish: to disappear.

* * *

_Look, I hated that bullshit four or three part brief filler story arch as much as anyone in the Bleach anime, and I sure as hell hated Ashido's character, but it was the only name that made any sense. Kubo Tite hasn't given IT a name, and I'm not comfortable using one of the various fan inspired titles for the inner Hollow (Shirosaki, Ogihci, etc.). _

_Anyhoo, that's all for now folks. Glad I got this one out of my system..._

_(I don't own anything Bleach...)_


End file.
